Operation : WAGER
by deLattre
Summary: When Ace claims he's a better mechanic then Hoagie, the technology officer sets out to prove him wrong.
1. Chapter 1

**Operation W.A.G.E.R.**

**Winging**

**Always**

**Generates**

**Enormous**

**Rivalry**

It was an ordinary day in Cleveland. The Delightful Children were scheming to brainwash all the children in a ten mile radius, Professor Triple Extra Large was attempting to create the perfect snowcone, and a mile above ground, Hoagie Gilligan was flying his latest homemade aircraft.

Hoagie loved flying in general, but was particularly fond of doing so over towns and cities. It was like being a superhero: going anywhere you wanted, looking for heroic deeds, and hearing citizens cheer and marvel at your courage and technological prowess.

The street directly below him looked fairly busy. Perfect. He dived, keeping his angle of descent at a reasonable 60 degrees. At thirty feet he leveled up and began skimming just above the cars. Adults went about their business, unaware that a child was zooming over their heads at hundred twenty mile an hour. Hoagie hugged the street until he reached Gallagher Elementary, then climbed back up to 800 feet. "Numbuh Two Guy, Away!" he laughed.

Suddenly another machine drew alongside his rocket-copter plane. It was his distant companion of the skies, Ace. He squinted. Apparently, Ace was motioning at Hoagie to follow him. There was far too much wind to talk at the speed they were going, so he decided to comply.

Ace led him to a park on the outskirts of town. Hoagie touched down on a meadow and walked up to the other pilot. "Hey, Ace! Long time no see! How's it going?"

"I'm doing well, thanks." replied Ace in a measured tone. "I've been watching you."

"Yeah, I'm been watching you too!" said Hoagie cheerfully. "We haven't talked to each other much, though."

"No, what I meant was, I've been watching your plane."

The smile on Hoagie's face faltered slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice that you've had the same plane for three months." elaborated Ace. "Don't you think it's a bit...primitive?"

Hoagie frowned, convinced he must have misheard. "How is it primitive?"

"Well for starters (Ace strode over to Hoagie's plane and began examining it), this vertical stabilizer isn't well attached. It could come off at the slightest shock. And your ship has no power source apart from these rockets, which means it's awfully loud. If I were you, I would install some turboprop or jet engines. And look at these wheels-

"Are you through?" interrupted Hoagie tersely. "I don't like your tone."

Ace sneered. "Just because I'm better mechanic-

That tore it. "You are _not _the better mechanic."

"Want to bet?" taunted Ace.

"Yeah, I do! I say we each get a month to build a plane and present it to a group of qualified judges. The person who builds the better plane will be declared the superior mechanic."

"Interesting. But what are the stakes?"

Without thinking, Hoagie said the first thing that came to his mind. "The stakes? How about this: the loser has to give a speech in the auditorium in front of the school, admitting that the winner is a better mechanic. And not just for ten seconds. A real speech, so that the audience understand which one of us is superior."

Hoagie's rival smiled coyly. "Very well, Hoagie. You've got deal."

"Let's shake on it, then."

Teeth gritted, the two boys shook hands.

"Before we go any further", declared Ace, "I think we should establish some rules."

"Agreed. First of all, we need to decide who will judge our planes. I think it should be some KND technology officers."

"Technology officers?", repeated Ace, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "As in your friends?"

"No, not my friends. We'll find operatives that I don't know, who live really far away."

"Okay, sounds fair. And what about the test location and the aircraft criteria?"

"The judges can decide that."

The Hispanic boy stroked his chin. "That works for me. And one more thing (he smiled): no 2x4 by technology. You use normal construction material."

Hoagie stared blankly ahead, and felt some of his confidence leave him. He hadn't used normal construction material in a long time. But he wasn't going to let that stop him. "Why not?"

"Because otherwise, you'll be able to build a plane in a single day, and without trying. The playing field needs to be even. No shortcuts."

"Ok, fine. And is a month enough time for you?"

"Yes, it should be long enough." considered Ace. "Anything else?"

"No, that's it. I'll see you on May 16." With that, Hoagie stormed off.


	2. Chapter 2

Meanwhile, in the Treehouse's TV Room, Wally and Kuki were up to their usual doings.

"A promise is a promise, Wally," whined Kuki. "You said you'd go to my tea party!"

On the left side of the couch, Abby and Nigel rolled their eyes at each other. Arguments between Wally and Kuki were so frequent , they no longer fazed them.

"Well ah changed my mind! Tea parties are the cruddiest, dorkiest thing ever-

He caught himself just in time: Kuki's eyes were quivering ominously.

"Okay, _fine_. Ah'll go ter yer tea party."

"Yay! Hee hee!"

"-Fer fifteen minutes."

"Twenty minutes!"

"Seventeen minutes!"

" Eighteen!"

"Seven-hey, Numba Two, are ya all right?" For Hoagie had just entered the room, looking upset.

"Yeah, what happened, Numbuh Two?" asked Kuki curiously. "Your face is all red."

"You won't believe what just happened to me", said Hoagie. He sat down and proceeded to tell his friend about his encounter with Ace.

"and the loser of the bet has to admit the winner's superiority in front of the whole school." Hoagie finished a minute later.

"Uh, Numba Two, no offense, but what were you thinking?" asked-or rather scolded-Abby.

"What do you mean?" Hoagie replied.

"Admitting the winner's superiority before the whole school?! What kind of a crazy idea is that?"

"It's not crazy." said Hoagie. "I just want to prove once and for all that I'm the better pilot. Besides, we still have a score to settle."

"What score?" asked Abby, her eyebrows knitted together.

"He shot me down eight times. Now it's payback time!"

But even as he spoke, Hoagie felt a pang of doubt. He had fought Ace to a draw in their last encounter, but that was with 2x4 technology. How would he fare without it, especially when Ace was probably accustomed to using conventional materials? "I can win this." he claimed. "I just need a little help from you guys."

"Don't worry!" exclaimed Wally, jumping to his feet. "We'll beat Ace if it's the last thing we do. Right guys?"

"Absolutely", approved Nigel. "As long as it doesn't get in the way of our KND work, we'll do everything in our power to help you, Numbuh Two."

* * *

Hoagie was sleepless with excitement that night. He tossed and turned into the early hours of the morning, trying to decide what his plane should be like. It paid off: by the time he got up for school the aircraft was ready in his mind. He would be building a Supermarine Spitfire, with substantial modifications. Two turboprop engines would be attached to the vertical stabilizer. A second seat would be added in behind the cockpit, and the wingspan would be reduced from 36 to 24 feet, so as to fit in Hoagie's room at the Treehosue. The fuselage of the original Spitfires had been made from 2000 series-a primitive type of aluminium alloy-but Hoagie would be using the much more advanced 7000 series.

"Why choose a Spitfire?", asked Betty at breakfast.

"Because, mom, it's the plane that stopped the Germans in 1940!" Hoagie exclaimed. "It's the plane of heroes!"

Naturally, determining the design was only one step; Hoagie also needed to obtain the building materials. In this area Hoagie soon ran into difficulties. Around 4 PM, as he rummaged through his garage for an arc welder, his mother called him to the kitchen.

"Hoagie", she said while cleaning some dishes, "I reviewed that equipment list you put on the table."

"Oh right", Hoagie replied dismissively. He went to the fridge and opened it. "So, it is okay with you?"

"Well, no", she answered calmly. "We can't buy three turboprop engines. We can order one, but that's it."

The pilot froze with his hand on a milk carton. "What! But why?!"

Hoagie watched his mother examine her reflection in a newly cleaned plate. She seemed completely unbothered by his problem. "Because dear, we just can't afford it. Plane engines are very expensive."

"But I thought Lockheed Martin was giving us the equipment for free", protested Hoagie.

"No, they're not. We're only getting a discount."

"But, mom, I need rocket engines! My plane has to be as fast as possible." Hoagie whined. He felt a sudden urge to release his frustration by stamping his foot. He didn't like not getting what he wanted.

Betty's expression was sympathetic, but she remained unmoved. "I'm sorry, Hoagie, but that's my final word on the subject."

"It's not fair." Hoagie pouted. He sat down and propped his head against his hand. "What if Ace buys more than one engine?"

"You don't know that. For all we know, Ace won't be able to afford more than one engine either." reasoned Betty, now busy adjusting a 2x4 adult alarm near the refrigerator. "Besides, why don't you use your 2x4 technology, like you usually do?"

"I can't." responded Hoagie moodily. "I promised Ace I would stick to normal technology".

It would be three weeks until Lockheed Martin delivered the equipment for Hoagie's plane. Until then, he believed, all he could do was inspect his designs for any possible flaws and attempt to gather information on Ace's plans.


	3. Chapter 3

That same day, as Hoagie pondered what to do for the next three weeks, he realized he might benefit from looking at Ace's blueprints. It would be too late to alter his order from Lockheed Martin, no doubt, but he could still make some modifications. The more he thought about it, the idea grew appealing.

He confided in Nigel during science class, as they were conducting a popcorn experiment.

"Numbuh One", he said, "I need your help."

I need your help."

"What for? Not the lab report, surely."

"No, not that. I've been thinking. I want to know what Ace is planning to build. I want to infiltrate his house."

"Numbuh Two, look at the popcorns. They're swelling!"

"Oh yeah, how about that! Anyway, does Global Command still have a file on Ace?"

"I think it's stored in the Moonbase, yes. Why? Do you need it?"

"Yeah. I want find out what Ace does after school, so I know when his room is empty. Can you get your hands on his file?"

"I think so... If you really want it, I could ask Numbuh 362."

"Hoagie Gilligan , would you please get back to work?!" scolded the teacher.

"But I _was_ working, Mr.B.!" said Hoagie innocently.

"No, you were goofing off, as usual."

Hoagie grumbled. He had never gotten along with with Bergstein. And yet it wasn't because he goofed off, but because their beliefs concerning the scientific world were fundamentally different.

* * *

Nigel moved quickly. The next day at lunch he showed up with a large brown envelope with Ace's name written on it.

"Numbuh Two", he started gravely. "I have the KND's file on Ace right here." He extracted a paper from the envelope and began reading: "Ahem. Carlos Hidalgo: born January 5, 1994 in Los Angeles. Moved to Cleveland when he was 5. Hobbies include flying and playing yipper cards. Won the Tubathon last year ago and made a fortune from the Chicken Nugget Rush of '04. Academic profile-

"Uh, Numbuh One", interrupted Hoagie, "can you just get to the important part?"

"What?! Oh yes, of course. I've got his daily schedule here. Every Tuesday and Wednesday after school, at3:00 P.M.,he goes to the library for fifteen minutes. He likes to read _Doctor Time Space. _Then he goes home. He gets there around 3:25."

"Wait a second now!" interrupted Abby. "What's going on here?! Why do you need to know the kid's schedule?"

"I'm going to infiltrate Ace's house to get his plane blueprints."

"You're ain't serious! What do you need his blueprints for?"

"So I can improve my own design", replied Hoagie calmly.

"But Numbuh Two", Abby protested, "that's cheating! If you use his plans, you'll be admitting that he's better than you!"

"No, I'm not. Ace is probably planning the same thing."

Abby crossed her arms and glared at Hoagie sternly. "Do you _really_ believe that, or is it just an excuse?"

"I do believe it!", replied Hoagie angrily. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

"No!" Beleaguered, Abby turned to Wally. "Numbuh Four, back Numbuh Five up! Tell him this is wrong."

Wally grinned. "Are ya kidding? This is the best idea ever!" He and Hoagie exchanged a gleeful high-five.

"What do you guys think?" Hoagie asked Kuki and Nigel.

"Weeell..." thought Kuki, "me and Wally are having a tea party at 3:30. But okay, I'll help you, Numbuh Two!"

"I would go, Numbuh Two, but I've got a meeting with the other Sector leaders at 3:10 P.M." explained Nigel. "But you can borrow my rocket boots, if that helps."

"Yeah, that'd be great, Numbuh One!" said Hoagie enthusiastically. He noticed that a look of regret had come over Nigel's face, but ignored it.

He leaned forward in a conspiratorial fashion. "Numbuh Three, Numbuh Four, listen up. Here's the plan. At 2:55 P.M. we leave school and head for the library. You two stand guard outside the shop. I'll fly to Ace's house, go to his room and take photos of his blueprints. Let me know by walkie-talkie when Ace arrives in the shop, and when he leaves. Got it?"

"Got it!", exclaimed Wally and Kuki in unison.

"Excellent. Then I'll see you guys at 2:55."

* * *

Operation B.L.U.E.P.R.I.N.T. (**Blueprints Left Unattended Encourage Purposeful Resolution In No Time**) began well. Five minutes before the final bell rang, Hoagie, Kuki, and Wally left Gallagher and headed to Cleveland's library, located just across the street from Mr. Washer's Hobby Shop. Here, as agreed, Hoagie separated from his two friends. With the use of Nigel's rocket boots, he reached Ace's home in less than ten minutes.

It was at this point that things began to wrong. Hoagie had neglected to include the size of the house in his calculations. Forgetting that Ace was immensely wealthy, he had expected to find an ordinary two-story residence. What he found was a house as vast and lavish as the Delightful Children's mansion. Every piece of metal on the exterior, including the TV antenna, gleamed yellow. The walls formed a hollow square, beyond which lay a marble courtyard complete with palm-trees and fountain. Who knew how many rooms the house had?

Standing on top of one of the chimneys (there were four), the pilot weighed his options. It was 3:07 P.M. He could cut his losses and leave now. Or he could try to find Ace's room in the narrow timeframe remaining. And if he got caught...well, he could worry about that when it happened.

He decided to go for option 2. As quietly as possible, he floated down next to the highest window. From this place of concealment he extended his head past the window frame and chanced a glimpse.

He was staring at a library. Nothing to see here. He moved on to the next window: here there was only a steambath. On this third try, however, he found an empty bedroom. There was only thing to do. Gathering his courage, Hoagie stepped inside the house and began quietly exploring. His first target was a large desk on the right side of the room. On the desk, Hoagie noticed what a stack of papers covered with writing-that was surely a good clue.

He reached the desk and began rummaging through the papers, one by one.

"Homework...homework...homework." As he set aside paper number five, however, he noticed a name on the top right corner: Isabel Hidalgo. "Wait a second." he muttered. "This can't be Ace's room. This isn't his homework."

Before he could act on that conclusion, the door swung open. In came a small, sandy-haired girl, about the same size as Tommy. Predictably she froze in shock. "Hoagie Gilligan?! What are you doing in my house?!"

Hoagie did some very quick thinking. "Uh, I'm here on Kids Next Door business. We heard that your class was getting too much math homework, so we had to check if that was true."

Isabel's face crinkled in suspicion. "We're not getting too much math homework. Who told you that?"

Again, he scrambled to find a decent answer. He needed to mention someone in her class. But who? He didn't know anything about her, let alone who was in her class. "Tommy told me." he said eventually, praying that she attended Gallagher. At the same time he began quietly walking backward towards his point of escape.

Her face crinkled even more. "Your brother? Tommy? He's not even in my grade."

"No, but he's got friends in your grade." Hoagie retorted as confidently as possible. "But I guess he was wrong. Sorry for the mistake." He turned around and made for the window.

"Next time you want to check my homework, let me know, okay?!" Isabel yelled as he jumped off the windowsill. "I don't like people sneaking into my room!"

"Don't worry, I will!" he shouted back. Then he breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. Much too close. There could be no more question of infiltrating Ace's house. If not for his impressive thinking, he would certainly have been caught and humiliated. Worse, Ace would probably learn what had happened and put two and two together.

He should have known better than to think that the other pilot would play the spying game. Ace had many flaws, but he would never snoop around Hoagie's house to find out about about his plans. He had too much pride for that.

Maybe Abby had been right after all.

* * *

At 3:17 P.M., Hoagie landed back where he'd started-in front of the library.

"Numba Two, what are ya doing here?" exclaimed Wally, looking worried. "Did something go wrong?"

"Yeah, sort of.", Hoagie confessed sheepishly. "Ace's sister caught me in their house. I had to run for it." His eyes swept the sidewalk. "Where did Numbuh Three go?"

"She left just before ya got here", said Wally. "She's got her tea party in fifteen minutes. But what happens now? Are ya gonna try again?"

"No way.", replied Hoagie. We should just forget the whole plan. Numbuh Five was right. It's cheating."

"Are ya serious?", asked Wally. He sounded as if the operation's failure was a personal blow to him.

Hoagie took off the rocket boots and stuffed them in his backpack. "Yeah. It's admitting that I need his help."

Wally put his hands in pockets, shrugging. "It's yer decision, mate. Now come on, let's go play Yipper cards!"

"You got it! Wait a second, weren't you supposed to go to Numbuh 3's tea party?"

Wally shifted from one foot to the other and looked at the ground. "Oh, that. She, uh, canceled it, yeah!"

Hoagie's lips curled into a smirk. As usual, Wally was a terrible liar. "Yeah right! You chickened out, didn't you? "

"No, ah told her that ah'd go after ah helped you!"

"But you're not going to, are you?"

"No. But ya can't say anything to her!"

'I'm gonna te-ell her!" sang Hoagie.

"Numba Two, no!" shouted Wally frantically. "Ya can't tell her anything! "

Laughing, the goggled boy ran off, his problems momentarily forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

Surprisingly, Ace never confronted Hoagie about the intrusion into his mansion. That was just as well, because the technology officer struggled to deal with the waiting process. He became uncharacteristically silent and cantankerous; no longer cracking jokes and tending to snap at the slightest frustration. The truth was, he wasn't used to waiting, not when it came to receiving aircraft equipment. Towards the end of April, Abby confronted him about the change.

"I'm fine, Numbuh Five." he replied gruffly.

"Well you sure don't seem fine." she said.

But he ignored her.

Meanwhile, news of the wager caused a sensation at Gallagher. Everyone wanted the inside story on the bet and the profile of the contestants, so that the _Galla-Lab's _productivity surged to unprecedented levels. The resident gambling society reported that three hundred students had placed bets on the outcome of the wager, and the faculty agreed to set aside half an hour of class time for the loser to give his speech. There was little doubt as to who would win, however. The vast majority of students considered Ace to be the leading mechanic in school, courtesy of his victory at the Tubathon last year. Hoagie might put up a good fight, but it would be no contest. What they read in the papers did nothing to change their minds. This attitude further worsened Hoagie's temper. He refused to give interviews and shouted at people who explained to him why they thought Ace was likely to win.

Still, he dealt with the waiting and pressure, albeit badly. Far more troublesome was the potential clash between his ordinary schedule and the construction of the plane. Hoagie did the math on May 3. On a regular basis he had seven hours available after school. Two were were taken up by missions and building 2x4 technology. A further three were required for homework, dinner, and taking a bath. But Hoagie calculated that he would also need a minimum of three hours daily to build the Spitfire. Plainly, something would have to give.

That evening, he reluctantly asked Nigel for reduced working hours while building the plane-for him and Wally.

"What do you mean, reduced working hours?" Nigel asked grumpily. He was in a bad mood: their most recent mission had not gone well.

"I just don't think I have the time for missions and building my aircraft." said Hoagie, unsettled by Nigel's tone. He looked to Abby and Kuki for help, but they were busy playing a video game.

"You made a commitment to the KND, Numbuh Two. That should be your priority."

"But don't you understand?" insisted Hoagie. "This wager is super important. It'll decide once and for all which of us is the better pilot."

"I don't care. I won't let a wager come at the expense of our missions."

"You know something, Nigel?" said Hoagie, starting to get flustered. "The only thing in your life is the Kids Next Door. That's all you care about."

He made to leave, but Nigel stopped him. "I'm warning you, Numbuh Two", he said heatedly. "If you start neglecting your KND duties, you're off the team."

Eternal glory or fighting evil adults? It was no contest. Besides, Nigel was probably bluffing. "You won't kick me off the team", he retorted. "You need me."

He continued walking, but Abby and Kuki suddenly appeared before him. Apparently they hadn't been completely absorbed by the video game.

"Okay, that's enough", said the team's second-in-command. She glared sternly at Hoagie and Nigel. "Both of you are acting like spoiled brats."

Hoagie's eyes widened in surprise. "Spoiled brats? That's what we call the Delightful Children."

"Yeah, Numba Two. And you're acting just like them."

"It's not my fault. He can't keep his priorities straight", complained the British boy.

"Why don't you just ask the Supreme Leader what to do, silly?" said Kuki in her sweetest, bubbliest voice.

Acting upon Kuki's advice, Hoagie and Nigel went to see Numbuh 362 that afternoon. In her Moonbase office, the Supreme leader received them with a sternness that surpassed Abby's.

"All right, Numbuh One." she began. "What was so important that it couldn't wait a day?"

"Ive got a problem with my Sector, Numbuh 362", said Nigel. "He pointed at Hoagie like a five year old. "Numbuh Two wants to quit the Kids Next Door for ten days to work on a personal project. And he wants Numbuh Four to help him too."

Rachel swiveled her head in Hoagie's direction. "Is that true, Numbuh Two?"

"Yes, sir", he said. "Mostly. You see, I made a bet with Ace a few weeks ago to see who could build the better plane. I've got until May 16 to build it. And I don't have enough time both to work on the plane and serve in the Kids Next Door."

Rachel glared at him, looking most displeased. "Uh huh. And _why_ did you make this bet?"

"Ace insulted me. I felt like I didn't have a choice."

"You could have ignored him, or suggested a different bet."

Hoagie bit his lips. When she put it that way, his actions did seem foolish. "I didn't think of that, sir."

Rachel snorted. "Well that's obvious."

She got up and paced around Hoagie. "Numbuh Two, I'm very disappointed in you. Some random kid insults you, and you have to shoot your mouth off. I don't suppose you can forfeit the wager or push it back, can you?"

"No sir. Probably not."

"And what about Numbuh Four? Do you really need his help?"

"Yes, sir, I do." He stared at the ground, hoping it would somehow mollify the Supreme Leader.

"Ughh!" she grunted. "Just what we need! Two operatives unavailable for nine days." She went to the window and stood motionless for a few moments, hands clasped behind her back. Then she faced him. "Numbuh Two, listen to me. The Kids Next Door is a military organization. We don't grant operatives leave for silly reasons like a wager. And we don't tolerate insubordination. On the other hand, you have been a valuable technology officer, and I've never gotten a complaint about you before."

To her right, Numbuh 86 coughed loudly.

"Well, no individual complaints, anyway. So I'll ask Sector NC to take over some of your team's workload. Hopefully they should be up to the job."

"Thank you, sir. I knew you'd understand."

"But the next time," warned Rachel, "think before you open your mouth. Understood?!"

"Yes, sir."

"I hope so." She waved her hand at Hoagie and Nigel's general direction. "Dismissed!"

For the rest of the evening, Hoagie and Nigel refused to speak to each other. Very soon after returning to the Treehouse, they had fight off an incursion by the Delightful Children, but Hoagie pointedly did not ask for orders from his leader. Nor did he receive any.

"It's all right." Abby assured a confused Kuki and Wally before they broke up for the night. "By tomorrow they'll be back to normal."

But the next morning, Hoagie and Nigel were still tight-lipped. They continued behaving like this for the rest of the school day, despite several clumsy reconciliation efforts by their friends.

After school, however, while Hoagie was playing a game of Mario Kart Racing in the Treehouse, Nigel walked up to him. He sat down on the other side of the couch uneasily and cleared his throat.

"Uh, listen Numbuh Two. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to insult you."

This was precisely what Hoagie wanted to hear. But he sensed that Nigel had more to say, and so remained silent.

"I know sometimes I take missions a little too seriously." continued Nigel. "But it's because I don't want other kids to be hurt. I don't want them to lose their hair or something like that, like I did. You understand, right?" Nigel went on.

On the screen, Hoagie's car had just run off a cliff. He ignored it and tossed aside his console. "Well, I guess I could have warned you before making the bet." he admitted. "So yeah, I understand."

"So...no hard feelings?" asked Nigel tentatively.

Hoagie looked at him and cracked a smile. "No hard feelings. Say, uh, you want to play a game of Smash Brothers?"

"Yeah, sure!"

Hoagie inserted the Smash Brother's cassette into the VCR and they eagerly began playing.

* * *

Lockheed Martin finally delivered the Spitfire equipment on May 7. When Hoagie came home from school that afternoon, he was delighted to find twenty cardboard boxes waiting in his Treehouse room. Nigel had transferred the boxes from his home's front lawn to Hoagie's room using a V.A.C.D.O.O.M (**V**ery **A**iry **C**annon **D**elivers **O**scillating **O**omph **M**assively).

Aided by Wally, Hoagie immediately flung himself into the venture. The first task was to create a duralumin chassis for the plane. First, they set up the cornerstone of the structure: five circular beams connected to four horizontal beams. Next, they filled up the gaps between the beams with a series of spirally crossing pieces of steel. To connect these spiral segments and the beams, they drilled rivets into the junction points. They were tempted to use super mature chewing gum instead of rivets, judging it would be much more convenient. But Hoagie remembered his promise not to use any KND technology, so the idea was dropped.

They worked with great speed and care, so that after an hour the massive skeleton of the Spitfire was largely complete. The only sections missing were the wings and the tail.

Satisfied, Hoagie and Wally took an ice cream break.

"We've made a good start", observed the Aussie, licking a chocolate scoop.

That was true, thought Hoagie, but they shouldn't get full of themselves. "Yeah, but we have to keep it up. We should get started right away on laying out the fuselage."

Once Hoagie and Wally had worked out which plates should be connected (there were hundreds of them), they placed the pieces against the chassis and drilled rivets where they overlapped. It was simple work, but exhausting for the driller: considerable pressure had to be applied to the rivets to make them sink into the metal. An adult would have been hard-pressed, and Hoagie was only eleven. After an hour of this business, sweating and covered in oil, he stepped back and wiped his forehead. "Whew! Okay, that's it for today. We'll keep going tomorrow. I've got homework to do."

"Ah, ya don't need ter do it now", said Wally brashly. "Just do it tomorrow at lunch, loike ah do."

"Yeah, but you usually get D's on your homework, don't you? Besides, they're serving chilli dogs at the cafeteria tomorrow."


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, they began placing the plates they had already fastened on the plane itself. After all of the previously connected plate sections had been installed, Hoagie consulted a self-made timetable. "We need to go fast." he declared. "By tomorrow we should be finished with the fuselage. Otherwise we'll never be ready by May 16."

Wally waved his hand dismissively. "Relax, Numba Two. We still got nine days."

"Nine days isn't that long. Before you know it it'll be the night before D-Day and both wings will be missing."

"If we really run out of time, we can just-hey, that bird is stealing our equipment!"

Hoagie spun his neck to the open window. Sure enough, a falcon had entered the room and seized a propeller blade in its talons.

Before Hoagie could stop it, the bird flew out of the window. "Hey", he yelled, "give that back, you stupid bird. That's my propeller blade!"

But the bird paid him no notice.

Hoagie reacted promptly. Running to the end of the room, he opened a cupboard and extracted his trusty F.L.A.P.P.U.H. He recrossed the chamber and donned the suit. "I'll bet you Ace sent that bird. I'll be right back, Numbuh Four!" And he jumped out the window.

The falcon seemed to have disappeared. Flying around the Treehouse, however, Hoagie caught sight of it. It was roughly a hundred feet away, moving at a slow pace. He gave chase. Apparently the bird saw him coming, for it accelerated. Nonetheless, having much larger wings, Hoagie steadily reduced the gap between them. As he was about to overtake the creature, it plunged into the foliage of a magnolia tree. Hoagie pushed aside the branches and prepared to end the chase, but widened his eyes at what awaited him.

Twenty or thirty birds of every possible breed in the state were standing motionless on several branches. They were staring right at him.

The pilot gulped, feeling distinctly ill at ease. He could see his falcon, perched on a branch six feet up and still clutching the propeller blade, but somehow he didn't think the other birds would let him confront the thief.

"What is this? What's going on?" Hoagie asked the animals, thoroughly confused. Was this an ambush?

"I can explain, Hoagie." said an eagle. His voice was high-pitched and quavering, yet it had a certain dignity. He appeared to be the leader of the assembly and-more surprisingly-was entirely white.

"Wow! I've never seen a white eagle before!" said Hoagie excitedly. "I thought you were all extinct!"

"Not quite. There are still about fifty of us left. But never mind that. We want you to stop flying over Cleveland."

"Stop flying. You're kidding, right?" repeated Hoagie, hoping this a joke.

"No. You may not have realized it, but almost every time you fly, you hit birds. We can't allow you to keep flying."

Hoagie was not a cruel person, by any means. He would never hurt an animal intentionally. But, quite apart from the fact that he loved flying, the eagle's statement struck the wrong chord with him. He crossed his arms in a defiant manner. "I'll try be more careful, but I don't need your permission to fly. It's not like the sky belongs to you."

"Of course, not." Hoagie," replied the bird. "But if you ignore our request, we'll continue stealing pieces of your plane."

"Oh yeah?!" the operative shot back. "Then I'll just close my window."

The eagle smiled. "That is your decision, Hoagie. But I think you might reconsider when you see the leverage we have."

"Leverage?"

"Volos." said the eagle smugly to a black vulture. "Show Hoagie the paper, will you?"

Volos, perched fifteen feet away, obligingly fluttered into the air. A paper unfolded from his talons, which Hoagie recognized as the assembly instructions for his engine's carburetor.

"Do you believe us now?" asked the eagle mockingly.

Hoagie shook his head in dismay, but refused to give up. "I don't care how much of my stuff you steal from me." he said. "Flying is my life. I'll never give it up."

A few of the birds clicked their beaks impatiently. "I told you he wouldn't listen, Orkas." said the falcon to the eagle in a bored tone. "Let's just go with plan B."

"Perhaps we can find a compromise." suggested a snowy owl. "What if the child agrees to fly only at certain times of the day?"

"That might work." remarked Hoagie, eager to salvage something from this confrontation. "How about you let me fly for three hours before sunset every day?"

A rusty blackbird fluttered it's wings. "Three hours is too long." he objected. "We can accept two hours, but no more."

Orkas fixed the assembly impassively. "All in favor of a two hour concession every day for the human?"

In the series of hoots that followed, the 'yeses' clearly dominated.

"Very well, then." said the eagle. He turned back to Hoagie. "You can keep flying, Hoagie, provided you uphold your side of the agreement."

"I promise I will. You don't have to worry." answered the technology officer earnestly. "Now could I have my propeller blade and my blueprint back? Please?"

The falcon and vulture soared down and dropped the objects into his hands. Satisfied, Hoagie turned to leave.

"Oh and by the way", said the owl, "good luck, Hoagie!"

Hoagie frowned. "What for?"

The owl was about to answer, but a murderous glance from Orkas made him recoil. "Never mind." she said hastily. "You just run along, now!"

Hoagie didn't need telling twice. But while he was still in earshot range, the birds spoke to each other.

"Teksia, you shouldn't be encouraging him. The last thing we want is for him to win. "

"He won't win. He's never built a real plane in his life."

"And the other boy has?"

"If what I've heard is true, yes."

* * *

"Way ter go, Numba Two!" Wally exclaimed a few minutes later, as the pilot landed in his room. "Did ya have any trouble getting the propeller back?"

"I'll tell you in a minute, Numbuh Four. First, I need a glass of soda."


	6. Chapter 6

In the aftermath of the ornithological incident, Hoagie and Wally ramped up their efforts, not wanting to lose any more time. The only major break they took was to meet a group of Australian 2x4 technology officers that Abby had chosen to judge the contest. On Thursday, after three days of drilling rivets, the Spitfire's fuselage was mostly completed. Only the nose section was left out while the two operatives concentrated on the engine.

An unexpected difficulty arose at this point. The blueprints contained no written instructions, only diagrams. When Hoagie attempted to use the diagrams, he was left baffled. The blueprints were terribly vague. They showed the order in which the large-scale components were supposed to be assembled, but not how to assemble them. Worse, Hoagie had never actually built an engine without guidance-they always came fully assembled.

Still he continued to pore over the diagrams, hoping that sooner or later he'd pick up something useful. Meanwhile Wally sat on a sofa, waiting for him to say something.

"So what do the blueprints say?" the Aussie asked after ten minutes. "Do ya know what we're supposed to do?"

Hoagie shook his head. "We're in trouble, Numbuh Four. These diagrams are useless."

Wally gave him an alarmed look. "Are ya saying ya don't know how ter build the engine?"

"No, I just need some time to think. Give me a few minutes."

Hoagie sat down at his desk and let his eyes roam all around him, to the desks' surface, the drawers, the half-built Spitfire, the chemistry equipment, the lofty walls and ceiling of the the room. He did this whenever he was in great need of inspiration.

Hoagie repeated the behavior for ten minutes. Then, as his eyes moved past the bottom right drawer, he stopped.

"The journal." he whispered. "Of course, that's it."

When he was younger, he had received lessons in mechanics from his father. One of their last lessons had been understanding how to read a professional blueprint for engine assembly. Hoagie had diligently recorded notes and drawings from the lesson in a journal, which was currently gathering dust in a drawer of his desk.

He opened the drawer and pulled out of the journal. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Hoagie was buried in the manuscript, and Wally didn't know what to say. At length, after ten minutes, Hoagie raised his head.

"I know what I have to do, Numbuh Four." he said resolutely. "First we have to take the flywheel and put it on the crankshaft. Then we have to attach a row of pistons on the crankshaft."

He felt in control again. The construction technique didn't magically come back to him, but by following the drawings and the instructions in the diary, he slowly put the pieces into place. After all, how hard was it to install a connecting rod between the piston and the crankshaft, attach a fuel bowl to the carburetor's air horn, or place balancing shafts between the cylinder banks? It was just a matter of following instructions; any mechanic could do it.

And so three hours later, with the help of Wally and the hamsters, Hoagie was looking at a fully assembled engine

They were connecting the engine to the main body of the plane using a crane when Wally's face lit up.

"Wait a second, Numbuh Two. Ah've got an idea. Why don't we connect some chili peppers to the engine? That way we could double or triple the speed of the plane!"

"Hey, that's a good idea!" consideredHoagie. "I wonder why I didn't think of that." Then his face fell. "Oh wait, now I remember. I can't use chilli pepper."

"What?! Why not?"

"It's Kids Next Door technology", pointed out the pilot sullenly. "They're against the rules of the contest, remember?"

"Oh, come on, Numba Two!", said Wally crossly. "If Ace is using his money why can't we use 2x4 technology?

Hoagie scratched the side of his head for a moment. "I don't know, Numbuh Four... I guess if Ace was using rocket engines, we could use the peppers. But we don't have to."

"Why not?!"

"I talked to the judges yesterday, told them that Ace has more money than me. They said they'll keep that in mind when they're making their decision."

"Oh, okay." said Wally slowly, with a nod of understanding. "Well in that case, ya should fine!"

* * *

The next morning, between second and third period, Hoagie approached Ace near his locker. "Ace, I need to talk you", the goggled boy began.

Ace slammed his locker shut. "If you're trying to find out about my plans again", he sneered, "forget about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about"., said the other pilot hurriedly. "I just wanted to tell you, I found some Kids Next Door technology technology officers who are willing to judge us."

Hoagie's rival regarded him coldly. "They're not friends of yours, are they?"

"No, they're from Australia. Now listen, they suggested we test our planes in Death Valley. It's flat terrain, completely uninhabited, no birds in the sky. We'll have plenty of room to take off, and no one can get in our way. What do you say?"

Ace zipped up his backpack and put it on his shoulders. "That sounds fine. But how exactly are we supposed to get there? It's five hundred miles away to Death Valley, and I don't have all day."

This time it was Hoagie's turn to smirk. "Leave that to me. Just be in front of your house at 3 PM on May 16."

"All right", said Ace. "I'll be there. I'm looking forward to this."

"You won't win." said Hoagie curtly. "I've got the better plane."

"No, you don't." Ace replied softly. "I told you before, Hoagie, I'm the best." He started to walk away, but then stopped and turned his head. "And in case you haven't noticed, the whole school agrees with me."

* * *

D-Day -4 witnessed the installation of the fuel tank and its conduit to the engine. This was delicate business : if the conduit was not properly sealed, it would leak. This could lead to a mid-air breakdown, or worse, an explosion. Moreover, because the fuselage was already laid out, Wally had to crawl within the cramped confines of the Spitfire to do the job.

«Now we just have to make sure the engine works.» Hoagie stated once Wally had clambered out of the plane.

He went over to the instrument panel (such as it was for now) and pressed the power button. There was a sharp sputtering and a hissing noise, then-very slowly-the propellers began turning.

«All right, it works!» exulted Wally.

Hoagie sighed in relief. «That's a relief. Now come on, let's keep moving.!»

They moved on to installing the wings. It was the same procedure as before-create the exoskeleton, cover it with fuselage. Satisfied, Hoagie was about to press forward when Wally pointed out something. «Hang on. Numba Two, what about the slats?»

«The slats?»

«Yeah, the slats on the wings, ter slow down the plane when it lands.»

«Oh yeah, good point. But I don't know really how to make them work.»

Wally looked him with a dumbfounded expression. «Are ya serious?»

«Of course I am. I never built slats before, and it's really complicated. They run on electricity, so you need to add a separate component to the engine.»

«Aw come on, Numba Two. You managed to build an entire engine yesterday!»

«Yeah, but only because I had my old instruction manual with me. This is different.»

«Well if we can't build them the normal way, ah'm sure we can build them our way.»

In the end, that was they did. Since Hoagie and Wally couldn't to make the slats run on electricity, they figured out a way to operate them manually. They achieved this by making the slats open to begin with, and connecting them to a pedal in the cockpit. When pressure was placed on the pedals, the slats closed. This consumed precious time, since it required detaching the engine from the rest of the plane. But Hoagie felt he didn't have a choice.

The two operatives rounded off their day's work by setting up the control yoke and the throttle.

As they left the room, Hoagie looked at his friend. « Do you think we'll be finished in three days ? »

«Yeah, of course. Now that we've built the engine, the rest should be easy.»

«Hopefully, yeah.»


	7. Chapter 7

D-Day -2 found Hoagie and Wally busy setting up the tail. Although a straightforward job, it took longer than it should have. Hoagie wanted to be sure that the stabilizers wouldn't break off-therefore he used twice as many rivets as recommended. As extra reassurance, he tried shaking the vertical stabilizer around: it didn't budge an inch.

Next came the wheels. The rubber and metal parts were linked together. Then Wally lifted the plane into the air with a crane while Hoagie drilled the wheel apparatus into place.

"We're almost done." realized Wally enthusiastically. "What else is left?"

Hoagie consulted his timetable. "Hey, I think we're almost done! And we're ahead of schedule. The only things left are the instrument panel, the windows, and the seats."

"Which one should we do first?"

"Let's do the seats. That's easier."

Installing a floor and the sitting furniture in the cockpit proved easy. When they tried out the seats, however, they received an unpleasant surprise.

"This isn't right." realized Hoagie. He tried to push one of the chairs backwards, without success. "These chairs don't recline. Aw man, I told the adults to build reclinable chairs."

"Well, why don't we use Numbuh Five's chair?"

Hoagie shook his head. "Nah, she won't agree. There's only one thing to do."

"Cut the chair in half and install a pivoting mechanism in the middle?", said Wally quickly.

"No, easier. There's a reclining chair at my house, in the living room. We'll use that."

Within twenty minutes the plan had been carried out. All that remained was to improvise a seat belt for the chair, a simpler task than building a pivot mechanism.

Once the seat belt had been taken care of, they were free to move on to the cockpit window, or rather windows. It was tedious, minutious, work: pushing rivets into duralumin and glass, inch by inch.

"When this is done, ah'm gonna see rivets in my nightmares", groaned Wally.

"Just try not to think of how much is left", muttered Hoagie.

Gradually, their progress began to show. Half the rivets were in place…then two thirds…then three quarters. As the sun dipped below the hills outside, the number of holes required shrank to a dozen. One last effort, and this remnant vanished too.

* * *

On the eve of D-Day, the excitement at Gallagher reached a crescendo. From kindergarten to sixth grade, the subject on everyone's lips was the wager. And as he walked through the halls that morning, Hoagie noticed that most people looked or spoke to him with sympathy. But it was the kind of sympathy one gives to a person who has just experienced a great embarassment-or is about to experience one. Then, during history class, Frybingle spent the entire period explaining that throughout history, successful men and women had one thing in common: they were always able to conform to society. Because Ace was more conformist than Hoagie, it followed that he would win.

After the bell rang, Hoagie walked out of class in the company of one his classmates, Rebecca.

"Wasn't that the worst history class ever?" scoffed the pilot. "I mean, Abraham Lincoln became president by blending into the crowd? Who actually believes that nonsense?"

Rebecca looked at the ground. "I don't know, Hoagie." she said uneasily. "I didn't agree with him, but he does have a point."

Hoagie scrutinized the girl, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just... Ace has an A in science, he won the Tubathon last year, and he's been trained by Lopez Maida. No offense, but he seems like he has better chance of winning."

Hoagie noticed that Rebecca was holding a newspaper. "You heard that in the _Galla-Lab, _didn't you?"

"Yeah, it was in this morning's edition." she admitted. "Didn't you read it?"

"No, I don't read the _Galla-Lab _much_._ I don't like Ben's style. Can I see the paper?"

Taking the copy from Rebecca's outstretched hands, Hoagie looked it over. The front headline read: HIDALGO FAVORITE IN BATTLE FOR THE SKIES.

"Oh, that tears it." declared Hoagie. "I'm gonna give the _Galla-Lab_ a piece of my mind." He reversed his course and trotted away.

"Hey, what about my paper?" cried Rebecca. "I'm not done reading it!"

"I'll give it back to you in class!"

Hoagie reached the Galla-Lab's office and made directly for the editor's desk, drawing curious stares from the staff.

The editor in question was a boy named Benjamin Franklin. His two most distinctive traits, both the result of an obsession with his namesake, were wearing a tricorn hat and a massive ego.

"Hey Ben, what's this article supposed to mean?!" said Hoagie, slamming the newspaper down on the largest desk in the office. "I want a retraction."

Hoagie and Ben went back many years. They had been detectives for the school's hall monitors in second and third grade. But then Ben had gone into journalism, and they had grown distant from each other.

The editor raised his hand feebly, as if to convey his powerlessness. "Sorry, Hoagie. I wish I could help you, but my hands are tied. All the evidence suggests that you're going to lose tomorrow."

"No it doesn't!" said Hoagie sharply.

"Yes, it does. It's all explained in the article." Ben sipped a mug of hot chocolate and picked up the newspaper. "Let me see...first, Ace has an A in science, and you have a C-

"Yeah, I know what the article says!" interrupted Hoagie. "But it's wrong. For your information, I received engineering lessons too, and the only reason I don't get good grades in science class is because Bergstein doesn't like me. And I could easily win the tubathon; I just need to work on my farfegtubing."

A mocking smile came over his interlocutor's face. "You're not doing a very good of defending yourself, Hoagie."

The technology officer gave his former friend a disappointed look. "You've changed, Ben. You used to care about telling the truth."

"I still do." said Ben. "This _is_ the truth."

"No it's not. It's what people thinks is gonna happen."

"It's both."

"No, it's not!"

"Yes is it!"

"Fine!" Hoagie shouted, exasperated. "Keep the stupid article! But you'll regret it, mark my words."

* * *

That night, Hoagie and Wally installed the instrument panel, which they had forgotten the previous day. As a finishing touch, they covered the aircraft in bright green paint and painted a red number two on the tail. Then they stepped to admire their work. The plane was ready.

Invited to take a look, Kuki, Nigel, Abby were full of admiration.

The Japanese girl, in particular, seemed fascinated. "It looks so big and shiny", she marvelled. "Can I look inside the cockpit, Numbuh Two? Can I?"

"Sure, Numbuh Three, but don't press any buttons."

"I'm impressed, Numbuh Two." remarked Nigel in a subdued voice. "No wonder you put in so much time."

While Kuki and Nigel took a close look at the plane, Abby drew near Hoagie.

"Did you ever find out what kind of plane Ace is building?" she asked.

Hoagie shook his head. "Nope. I guess I'll find out tomorrow."

"About time. So anyway, what time is the contest?"

"Why? Are you coming with me?"

"Well duh!" she replied. "You're didn't think you were gonna go alone, did you?"

Hoagie shrugged. "I wasn't sure."

"Where are we meeting Ace?" inquired Abby.

"In front of his house, at 3 P.M. Uh, actually, we'll need the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. to get there."

"No problem." assured Nigel. "I'll bring it to school."

Abby, Nigel, and Kuki soon shuffled out, leaving the builders of the Spitfire alone.

"Hey, Numbuh Two. Ain't ya gonna fly the plane before the test?" said Wally.

"Yep. Tomorrow morning, before school. I'm gonna use the I.T.S.I.B.I.T.S.Y. to shrink it and bring over it to my house. You wanna come with me?"

Wally yawned. "No thanks. Ah need some sleep." He walked towards the door. "'Night, Numba Two."

"Good night, Numbuh Four."


	8. Chapter 8

Death Valley, May 16. 12:05 P.M. On the Sandstone Plain, not a creature stirred. Abruptly, the stifling monotony was broken by a roaring sound. It was an Australian S.C.A.M.P.E.R., coming in to land.

Twelve passengers streamed out-Sector V, four Australians technology officers, Ace, and two of his friends.

The referees, whose names were Alyssa, Bernard, Jake, and Andrew,stepped in front of Hoagie and his opponent.

Bernard, a hulking, assertive boy, spoke up. "All right, chaps. Here's how this is gonna work. You're going to take turns flying your planes. One of us will be accompanying you on board and giving you instructions. You'll be graded on speed, maneuverability, comfort, and safety. Once ye've both flown, we'll decide who's the winner. If your plane disintegrates in mid-air, you're instantly disqualified. Understood?"

"Yes." said Hoagie and Ace.

"Uh, Bernard, can't we have them both fly at the same time?" interjected Alyssa. "We need to be at school in an hour and a half!" So saying, she glanced nervously at her watch. For a moment, Hoagie wondered what she was talking about. Then he remembered that the judges came from Sydney, where it was currently 7:00 A.M.

"Don't worry, Alyssa." said Bernard firmly. "We'll keep their flying time down to twenty minutes. That'll leave us plenty of time to get to school in time."

"Well okay, if you say so." she conceded.

Bernard turned his attention back to Hoagie and Ace. "Do you both have two parachutes?"

The two pilots again answered in the affirmative.

"Good. Now we just have to decide who goes first."

"I think I should go first." uttered Hoagie quickly. "I'm the one who issued the challenge." He didn't want to fly with the thought that Ace may have surpassed him.

Ace threw him an impassive stare. "Fine with me."

As Hoagie used the I.T.S.I.B.I.T.S.Y. to unshrink his plane, he felt nervous, but less so than during his last confrontation with Ace. He'd gotten his first look at the Hispanic pilot's plane at his house. Ace had built a P-51 mustang, a contemporary of the original Spitfire. In terms of capabilities, the two aircrafts were more or less evenly matched. The only difference was that Ace had electric slats, a nose light, and air conditioning. Thus it was anyone's guess as to who would win. The outcome would depend heavily on their piloting skills. Now that Hoagie thought about it, in fact, the wager was testing their skills not only as mechanics, but as pilots.

Once the Spitfire and Mustang had been restored to their normal size, Andrew motioned towards the plane, clipboard in hand. "Ready to go?"

Hoagie rubbed his hands together. "Yeah, I am."

He passed by his friends.

"Good luck, Numbuh Two!" Abby and Nigel called.

"Ya can do it, mate!" urged Wally.

He entered the cockpit, followed by Andrew. "When you're ready, Hoagie take off." his passenger advised . "I'll tell you what to do once we're airborne."

Hoagie donned his parachute, made sure the window was shut and pressed the ignition button. The engine sputtered to life, prompting him to gently push on the throttle. The plane began to roll forward, bouncing slightly on the uneven ground. He pushed the throttle more, and now the plane steadily picked up speed, its propellers becoming a blur. After rolling three hundred feet, he reckoned he was going fast enough. He pushed the control yoke upwards and the Spitfire soared into the air.

"Take her up ter 3,000 feet!" shouted Andrew over the roar of the engine and the wind.

"You've got it!"

For a few minutes they climbed uneventfully. So far, so good. Would it last? Nervously, Hoagie checked for signs of trouble. Was it his imagination, or were the wings flailing?

"Okay, that's high enough!", called Andrew.

"Okay, so what now?"

"Well, first of all, the engine is awfully loud, don't you think! We can barely hear ourselves talk!"

"I know, I know! It's because the windows aren't thick enough!"

Hoagie looked at Andrew, and was dismayed to see him jot down something on his clipboard. "Never mind!", the Australian said. "Ah want you ter perform an aileron roll."

Hoagie grinned. "Music to my ears!" Indeed, aileron rolls were routine business to him. He pushed full starboard, and the Spitfire dutifully leaned over. At 180 °, the usual spell of dizziness assailed his head, but he shrugged it off. Hoagie fumbled a bit with the control yoke, before finding the correct direction. Soon he had completed the roll.

Good, said the judge. "Now I want you to make a turn to right. As sharp you can can!"

Again, Hoagie applied full pressure on the throttle, this time to port and sideways.

"Come on…come on!" he muttered. Ruthlessly he pressed the throttle, even if it meant pushing the plane to its structural limits. He was at 40°...he was at 80 °… at 120°...suddenly, at 160°, the aircraft wobbled from left to right. However, the slats absorbed the worst of the wind's effect. Nonetheless, he redoubled his vigilance until the turn was complete.

"Was that fast enough?!", he asked Andrew.

"You took 32 seconds. Not outstanding, but reasonable!" replied the judge. "But don't stop! Climb up to 7,000 feet."

As they flew up, Hoagie heard Andrew scribbling down feverishly on his clipboard, and wondered what he was writing.

All too soon, the altimeter indicated 7,000 feet. "Listen carefully, Hoagie" yelled Andrew. "I want you to dive at an 80° angle. Stop when I tell you to. Can you handle that?

The pilot gulped. "80°? Uh, okay!"

"Then dive!"

Hoagie braced himself and pushed the control yoke downwards.

The plane plummeted towards the earth, first slowly, but then with incredible speed. He couldn't make a single mistake. The ground loomed larger, and as it did, Hoagie felt his terror and exhilaration grow. He was moving like a speeding bullet, faster than he ever had, but this time he didn't really feel in control. The plane was shaking so badly it took all his strength to keep holding the controls. If he let go of the device for even an instant, he would probably crash, and that was about to happen.

"STOP!"

Immediately, Hoagie pulled up. The command came just in time: a few second more and the tremors would have forced him to let go. He wiped his forehead and realized it was covered in sweat.

"Well done, mate!" exulted Andrew. "Fine work!"

"Thanks! What's next?"

"One more thing. Take her to maximum speed. I want ter see how the plane handles it."

This time, Hoagie was happy to oblige. He pushed the throttle to its furthest extent, so that the plane's speed reached 447 miles an hour. He maintained this tempo for five seconds, then returned to cruising speed.

"Ye're done, Hoagie! Just get us down!"

The landing took place without incident. Hoagie lacked a radio to ask for directions, but the sky was so clear this wasn't a problem. At 3:25 P.M., the Spitfire was back where it had started, to the left of the Australian SCAMPER.

As soon as they were off the plane, the technology officer turned to Andrew. "How d'you think I did?".

"Ya did fine, Hoagie. But ah can't tell you anything more now. Ah have to discuss your performance with the other judges."

"By the way," Andrew added in a hushed voice, "I hope you win. I don't really like Ace."

Unwilling to press the matter, Hoagie rejoined his team. Wally and Abby clapped him on the back, and all four of them pressed him with questions and comments.

"How did it go, Numbuh Two?"

"Numbuh Two, I saw that dive you did, it was amazing!"

"Do you think you did well?"

"What did the judge say?"

"I think I did okay", answered Hoagie truthfully. "But man am I happy to be back on the ground!" He looked for a pun, but in vain: weeks without practice had left his comic creativity rusty.

Apparently Abby noticed something was amiss too, for she asked: "hey Numba Two, ain'cha gonna crack one of your lames joke now?"

Hoagie looked at her mischievously. "I thought you didn't like my jokes?"

"Numbuh Five doesn't like them, but they're so lame that they're funny." she explained, superbly casual.

"Aha! So you do like them!"

"Well…yeah, but only cuz they're lame."

While Hoagie launched into a dramatic account of his flight, one of the judges joined Ace in his plane. The P-51 Mustang rolled down the natural runway, gathered speed and lifted off the ground.

Hoagie was in the middle of relating his epic dive when something caught his ear. "What is it, Bernard?!" said Alyssa anxiously, "what happened?"She was communicating with Bernard via comlink; obviously something had just happened.

"What's going on?" asked Hoagie. But he saw it too: a few miles away, the plane was engulfed in flames. Seconds later it broke in half.

"Come in, Bernard!" called Alyssa, now very worried. "Are you all right? Come in!"

The rest of the company joined Hoagie and Alyssa. "It looks like Ace's plane has just gone crook." said Alyssa to everyone.

"Leaping Lizzies. It actually happened." muttered Nigel. "And he barely got off the ground, too."

"They have parachutes, right?" checked Jake.

"Yeah, they do." said Hoagie. "We both did."

"Please let them be all right…" whined Kuki.

Hoagie scanned the crash zone, using Alyssa's binoculars. Without surprise, he saw Ace and Bernard floating down.

They boarded the S.C.A.M.P.E.R. and met the two survivors as they touched the ground. Both Ace and Bernard were unharmed, of course.

"Are you guys all right?" asked Hoagie, more out of courtesy than genuine concern.

"We're fine." replied Ace. He bowed his head, looking thoroughly disheartened. Not far away, the lower half of the Mustang lay burning.

One of Ace's friends turned to the judges. "Do you guys have a water hose in the S.C.A.M.P.E.R.? I want to put that fire out."

"We've got some water baloons." said Alyssa. "Wait a second, I'll get them."

"What happened?!" wondered Jake while Alyssa hurried into the SCAMPER.

"I'm not sure." answered Bernard. "Everything was going fine, and then all the sudden we heard a huge explosion behind us. Before we could do anything, the plane split in half. I guess there must have been a short-circuit inside the aircraft, and it triggered an explosion…I really don't know."

Bernard cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, uh, I think that settles the competition." He walked towards Hoagie and shook his hand enthusiastically. "Hoagie Gilligan, I declare you the winner of this contest. Congratulations!"


	9. Chapter 9

Hoagie Gilligan victorious! Hoagie Gilligan triumphant, against the odds, crushing his opponent's arrogance to dust. The news struck Gallagher next morning like a thunderbolt. First graders and sixth graders alike shook their heads in disbelief, mortified that they could shown such poor judgment. The_ Galla Lab_ was a laughingstock. There was talk of Ben resigning, although he insisted that the judges must have made a mistake or been bribed.

Despite the initial shock, honors and glory were heaped upon Hoagie. When he walked into his third and fourth period classes, it was to the sound of a rousing ovation. Wherever he went, kids who had previously supported Ace high-fived him or shook his hand. At lunch, the Bullying Lords of Gallagher tipped their fedoras to him and promised never to mistreat him. A delegation of teachers solemnly presented him with a silver trophy inscribed with the words _To Hoagie Gilligan, king of the skies_. Best of all, it was Bergstein who handed him the trophy.

"It sure was lucky that Ace's plane blew up." the science teacher remarked quietly. "Wouldn't you agree, Hoagie? "

"It wasn't luck; Ace just messed up. You can hear all about it when he gives his speech."

Hoagie sealed his victory by standing up on a table and holding up the _Galla-Lab's_ most recent issue for all to see, to nearly unanimous laughter.

Only one more matter remained to be settled: the loser's concession speech. And so At 1 P.M., students and teachers gathered in the auditorium. There was few minutes of silence, broken only by a few tense whispers. Would Ace honor his word? Or would the prospect of a mega-humiliation prove too much for him?

In the front row, Sector V waited with varying impatience.

"Ah knew it. He's not coming." muttered an absent-minded Wally, who was attempting to count the forty dollars he had won from betting on Hoagie.

"I wonder if he even came to school day." reflected Nigel. "I didn't see him at lunch or at recess."

Abby shook her head. "No, he's here all right. Abby saw him in math class."

"I heard he's hiding on the roof." chimed in Kuki.

"Why would he be hiding on the roof?" said Wally incredulously.

Kuki shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe he wants to be alone."

A ripple of jeers finally announced Ace's arrival.

Emerging from behind the stage curtains, the Hispanic boy halted at the centre of the floor and looked up. "I'll make this quick." he began. His voice was soft and measured, and Hoagie looked into his eyes for the first time-Ace's glasses were missing. "Ever since the age of five I've loved to build planes and fly them. I was naturally talented, and I had some excellent teachers. By the time I was nine years old my planes had broken Mach 2 and reached the edge of space, even though I didn't have the help of any big organization. I thought I was the best in town. And so I fully expected I would win my bet with Hoagie. Well, that didn't happen. For some reason, my plane exploded after take-off yesterday. I'm not why it happened. But I have an idea. I installed air conditioning in my aircraft. The air conditioning short circuited because I kept it running for too long, and produced a spark that ignited the fuel tank. And that caused an explosion that destroyed my plane. And so I was wrong. I still think that my experience is greater than Hoagie's, but overall he is the more skilled mechanic and pilot. He showed that is more careful, and in our line of work that's a crucial quality to have. And so that's why (_he took an deep breath) that's why I want everyone to know that Hoagie Gilligan…is…_

"Say it." whispered Hoagie tersely.

-that Hoagie Gilligan is a better mechanic than me" Ace blurted out.

The crowd remained silent, but not Hoagie. All discretion forgotten, he stood up and punched the air with his fist. "YES! Finally! Take that, Ace!"

"There, I said it." Ace finished. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got places to be." He turned to leave, but one of the school's bullies stopped him.

"Not so fast, Ace. You told that we'd get our money back after your speech. So where is it?!"

Slowly, Ace began walking backwards towards the curtains. "Look, Cadorna, I told you, it's not my fault if you lost your money. I didn't force you to bet on me."

"But you said you were going to _win_, remember?" retorted Cadorna, cracking his knuckles threateningly.

"Well, I was wrong. What else do you want from me?"

"We want our money back, that's all."

"I uh, well, I don't have it now." spluttered Ace. "But I can get it to you first thing tomorrow morning, I promise."

"No, no, tomorrow's no good. We want it now, see." Alfred regarded his fellow bullies and snapped his fingers. "Boys, take Ace to the headquarters and teach him some manners."

The four other boys in the assembly wearing fedoras stood up and traipsed towards the stage.

That was enough for Ace. Screaming, he ran off. Hoagie watched him go, bent over with laughter.

To his left, Kuki was chewing her fingers remorsefully. "Do you think we should help him?"

"No." replied Hoagie. "I'd say he got what he deserved, Numbuh Three."

He continued chuckling for the next few minutes, even after it came time to return to class. He was king of the skies, and he was avenged. Could life get any better?


End file.
